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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589045">Not Yellow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyChaser/pseuds/RileyChaser'>RileyChaser</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:14:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyChaser/pseuds/RileyChaser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christen and Tobin pick paint colors for the nursery.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tobin Heath/Christen Press</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Yellow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another quick write as I get back on track.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'm in love with you."</p><p>"How?" Christen asked, her hand place firmly on the small of her back, the place it's been almost permanently placed for the last two months after her belly went from a cute bump to dwarfing her entire body. "I look like Santa in the offseason."</p><p>"Is this how Santa looks now?" Tobin cheesed, leaning against the door frame of the nursery, eyeing her wife in her light gray sweat pants and XL t-shirt. "If so, I'll have to make my Christmas list early this year."</p><p>"Shut up," Christen shook her head. She tried to turn back to the color swatches on the wall, but she could feel the eyes on her, probably looking lovingly as Tobin always did. It seemed like her wife adored her even more now that she was swollen and hot and generally miserable growing their first child. She huffed, pushing the strand of hair that also seemed to escape her ties. "What color? I need some help."</p><p>Tobin shook her head, her hands going out in front of her, "No, ma'am, that's all you. I paint. I don't pick colors."</p><p>"Tobin," she huffed, her hand shooting out to wave over the scattering of paint samples on the wall. "You can't put this all on me. This is <i>your</i> baby’s room.”</p><p>"It's <i>our</i> baby's room," she got comfortable against the door frame, her shoulder stuck in the crack, and her hands going to her hoodie pocket. "Whatever I pick, you're just going to turn down. I'm saving you the trouble of disappointing me."</p><p>Her eyes rolling, she motioned for her wife to come forward, "I promise I will give your choice equal consideration." She waited a few seconds, but didn't get a response, so she played the card she had been playing for the last eight months, "I am carrying your child, and you're making me beg."</p><p>"Fine," she couldn't win against that, something she knew from the beginning.</p><p>A pregnant Christen, while beautiful, was bossy and a little manipulative. All things she deserved to be, considering she was making a human for both of them. Tobin got up from her spot and stood next to her wife, looking at the paint on the walls. This was day eleven of paint colors, after a week of moving furniture around because the window offered too much sunlight for the nursing chair, and the changing table was too close to the door. But this was also something Tobin knew was coming. Nesting was a thing, and Christen was like a mama bird preparing for her eggs, and Tobin was like a construction worker, taking orders, tipping her hat, and whistling inappropriately at the sexy lady she worked for.</p><p>That was one of the things she actually prepared for, this pregnancy and all the quirks. She read the books, took notes, and marked pages with sticky notes. She asked questions, her sisters, their husbands, her mom and dad. The one answer that was consistent across all her sources was, "just follow what Christen says," be patient and kind, and everything would work out. Of course, there were bad times, like when Christen would burst out in tears randomly or get extremely pissed if Tobin didn't put her gym bag in the hall closet. But mostly, it was good times, laughing at silly things, trying to choose a name, rubbing a growing belly, and of course, eating all the crazy junk food Christen wanted. Tobin herself gained at least six pounds and was now on a running plan to shed those before the new season started.</p><p>She stood, her eyes on the different shades of the same color, her brain overheating trying to pick the one she thought Christen was going to pick anyway. That's how things went; she always tried to figure out what Christen wanted and just go with that choice. If she had her way, their house would be soccer posters and medals hanging everywhere instead of the tastefully done décor they currently had. If she had her choice, the room would stay white; that way, she didn't have to paint. She wasn't nesting yet. She read that too, that it wouldn't be really real to her until the birth. So she just went along, making sure her wife was happy.</p><p>With a deep breath, she pointed at the lighter yellow card on the left.</p><p>"Ew, no, not that one," Christen immediately said.</p><p>Tobin jumped back, "I thought you said you'd give my choice equal consideration?"</p><p>"Yeah, but that was before you picked that one," she said, her eyes wide, a smile creeping on her face. "That's the worst one."</p><p>Confused, she pointed at the wall, "Then why is it up there?"</p><p>"Because I have to know what I hate before I know what I like," she explained as if it made all the sense in the world. "I know I hate that one, which makes all of these look better."</p><p>"You're complicated," she let on a long breath, then plopped down in the nursing chair, her socked feet kicking out in front of her. "So, which one is the best?"</p><p>Christen's eyes flickered between the samples, her hand going to her chin, her finger tapping her lips as she thought. "None of them. I don't think I want yellow."</p><p>"What?!" Tobin sunk further down in the chair. "But, I got ten cans of the yellow sample."</p><p>"You did, and I appreciate you so much," she looked down at her wife, still with a little fight in her but close to defeat, "They are all fine, except the one on the end. I just don't think I want yellow."</p><p>"Okay," her head hung low, Tobin grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. "So, what do you want?"</p><p>Turning back to the wall, she did the same tapping motion, thinking for a few seconds, "Green, but with some blue in it. You know what I mean?"</p><p>"No," Tobin answered quickly, then popped to her feet, "But I guess it means I am going to Home Depot."</p><p>"Guess so," she smiled sweetly, "Can you go to the Home Depot near the mall?"</p><p>Her eyebrows lowered, "That's further away."</p><p>"Yes, but it's closer to Chipotle."</p><p>Her chest inflated with anger. "You want a burrito," She accused, her finger pointed at her wife, trying to look innocent.</p><p>Christen shrugged exaggeratedly, "I mean if you're going to be in the area."</p><p>Tobin opened her mouth to argue, then quickly gave up and nodded. "Just text me what you want," she said sweetly as she headed for the door. As she got to the hall, she flipped around. "Was all this just to trick me into getting you a burrito?"</p><p>"No," Christen flipped around to see her, rolling her eyes. "I don't have to trick you. I know if I ask, you'll just go get one."</p><p>Thinking for a second, she let her shoulders fall, "You're right."</p><p>Christen watched the last bit of fight leave her wife, something she knew would happen. Eight months ago, they made a choice to bring a child into their little family, the driving factor for her being the confidence she had in Tobin. It wasn't that Tobin was as loyal as a friendly dog or that she would willingly get up at midnight for cheeseburgers, it was the unchanging fact that Tobin loved her no matter what, and that would immediately transfer to any child they had. She was already a dream of a wife, and she was shaping up to be the type of mom that could win awards. There was no one else in the world she could do this with.</p><p>"Tobin," she called sweetly, waiting for her wife's head to pop back in the doorway. She chuckled at the goofy grin on her face and added, "I'm in love with you too."</p>
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